Fallen From Grace
by Nicole J. Coltan
Summary: "It is difficult to descend with grace without seeming to fall. Because once you let the darkness in, it never comes out." We're all in the same game; just different levels. Dealing with the same hell; just different devils. — [Opie/OC]
1. — Chapter One: Betrayal —

**Fallen From Grace**

 _by_ _Nicole J. Coltan._

 _"It had taken one taste of temptation and she knew she'd follow him into the pits of hell..."_

 _ **Disclaimer**_ : I in no means own anything related to the Sons of Anarchy. I merely own Dianne O'Neil and the imagination that conjures her.

Chapter Edited: 2017/07/02.

 ** _Bold Italics_** — **_Memories/Flashbacks_**.

 _Italics — Thoughts_.

* * *

 _ **Chapter One: Betrayal.**_

* * *

 _I trusted you._

It remained unspoken as he stared back at her in silent contempt—an insatiable itch that burned with a everlasting reminder that in this day and time, even family could not be trusted. Having been raised as a firm believer that the truth was better than the lies, Dianne O'Neil could feel the burning ache coiling deep into her muscles the longer she delayed the inevitable.

 _I did everything for you._

Had she been blinded this entire time? Had the truth been there all this time? It sickened her to think of all the heinous acts she had done in the name of what she had once thought to be her brotherhood. A family she never had—how naïve had she been?

 _And you killed her._

Like that of a cornered snake, the need for vengeance struck back like nothing she had ever felt before. It overshadowed revenge with each moment that passed and despite not recognizing the bloodied and battered façade staring back at her, Dianne O'Neil knew she didn't have it in her to pull the trigger, not yet.

 _She was just a little girl. My little girl and you took her from me._

If there was one word fitting enough to describe her at that moment, it would be nothing short of cowardice. She had made her fair share of mistakes but none had ever caused her pain as much as this did. It broke her heart to think that it had all boiled down to this moment—one where she had to choose.

"Just tell me what I did to make you hate me so?"

 _Just one bullet..._

What kept her from pulling the trigger? It dawned on her that this particular situation seemed familiar the more she found herself battling the raging war running amuck within her own mind.

She had been here before.

He remained silent throughout the whole ordeal, his shoulders hunched forward and his chest rising with each pained breath he took. She should end his misery.

 _Just one more bullet..._

 _Pull the trigger..._

She couldn't do it. Not with her voice echoing through her mind, reminding her that this wasn't who she was. No, Dianne had given up that part of her life a long time ago. "I'm sorry."

A rage unlike anything she had ever felt before rushed through her veins like never before—the burning fire that had died down rekindling at those meager, pathetic words. This was a man who had taken everything from her and that was all he had to say?

What made him think that those simple words would grant him mercy from her? He hadn't thought twice about—.

She swallowed the bitterness and ignored the disdain twisting and turning in her stomach. She had already failed her little girl, so what image had she not tarnished in the sake of acting upon the justice that she had been denied?

 _Yeah, me too._

Because people like her didn't deserve a happy ending. And she had been foolish to think that she deserved such an act for forgiveness. Was this her punishment?

It seemed cruel and unfair and yet she knew the truth lingering deep into the shadows of her own mind.

 ** _"Mommy, it's gonna be okay..."_**

The image remained fresh in her mind and though she tried her best to push the atrocious thoughts from her mind, she could feel it pushing back at the forefront of her mind.

 ** _"Just let go..."_**

 _Just one bullet..._

It was enough to drive a sane man beyond the point of madness, the darkened thoughts running amuck within her mind—unspoken whispers rumbling through her soul as she stared down into the pits of Death itself.

 _Just pull the trigger..._

It was as simple as that—the means to an end. Just one simple pull and it would all be over with. Dianne O'Neil should have known better than to think her demons would stop chasing her down. For a moment of false hope had cost her everything she had ever loved. Her Wren, her precious little girl.

 _Gone_.

 ** _"Please, mommy..."_**

Failure.

She had failed her little girl in more ways than one, knowing that she'd live a life regretting every little decision that had lead her to this moment. Thinking that she had a chance to make amends with the demons hiding in her closet—how wrong she had been.

Mercy was an act unworthy of the man before her and yet despite her ferocious need to act upon enacting the revenge her sanity so rightfully deserved, Dianne O'Neil found herself at loss of what to do.

 _ **"—promise me something."**_

She could feel them ripping into her flesh, tearing all asunder as she cradled the limp form of her precious Wren. For a sweet blissful moment, all the young woman could focus on was the dimpled smile the little girl gave—demanding even at the verge of Death.

 ** _"Promise me that you'll keep on living. I don't like it when you don't smile."_** It had felt like a truck had plowed through her at that moment and had it not been for the thin trail of blood oozing from her little, bow shaped lips, Dianne O'Neil would have applauded the little girl for her acting skills.

 _Just one bullet..._

For nothing seemed more surreal than that moment when she finally pulled the trigger. Because she knew without a doubt that her soul had been damned from the start.

 _There's a special place in hell reserved just for me..._

* * *

AN: Thank you to everyone who has made it thus far to the bottom. Please keep in mind, that despite this still being a new story, I am currently in the process of going through every chapter and editing as I go. I'll also be adding more components, as to avoid confusion and correcting grammar mistakes along the way.

Thank you for pulling through till the very end, and thank you to all for the reviews, alerts and support in general.

Much love,

Nicole J. Coltan.


	2. — Chapter Two: Guns Blazing —

**Fallen From Grace**

 _by_ **Nicole J. Coltan.**

 _"It had taken one taste of temptation and she knew she'd follow him into the pits of hell..."_

 ** _Disclaimer_** : I in no means own anything related to the Sons of Anarchy. I merely own Dianne O'Neil, Wren O'Neil, José Fernandez and everything else which you don't recognize.

Chapter Edited: 2017/07/02.

 ** _Bold Italics — Memories/Flashbacks._**

 _Italics — Thoughts._

* * *

 ** _Chapter Two: Guns Blazing._**

* * *

José Fernandez had seen enough in his life to know that when it came to a woman such as Dianne O'Neil, the last thing any sane man wanted to do was get on her bad side. Knowing full to well what happened to those who crossed her, the man wasn't surprised when she barged into his home guns blazing.

 _ **"I need your help."**_ He knew better than to question her judgement, knowing that he should be more proud than worried that she trusted him of all people—though albeit reluctantly, he might add. The woman was keen on keeping people on the outside but to those who knew her, José knew she wouldn't have come if she didn't have any other choice.

Because having the infamous, though legendary hitman known as **_Baba Yaga_** in his house would have made any grown man tremble in fear. José Fernandez knew that Dianne O'Neil was not a woman to be trifled with and he pitied the poor bastards that had made the mistake of leaving her alive—for it would be up to God to grant her enemies mercy for he knew she would have none.

It was one thing to betray the woman but another to take the only true thing that mattered to her—he still couldn't wrap his mind around the fact that the little girl who had him wrapped around her finger was gone. Dianne O'Neil was at loss of what to do and though the familiar glint of vengeance shimmered behind her eyes, he knew better than to let her go on a reckless binge to destroy all and everything she had built.

 ** _"Please don't make me regret this."_** He had promised her once more that he'd rather put a bullet through his own head than betray her trust—something that took him years to accomplish.

It had taken some time for Dianne to build up her strength but once she found herself on her own two feet, nothing could stop her from chasing down those who took everything from her.

"I have a place," José murmured as he intently watched the woman reassemble the M1941 Johnson rifle like it was the most easiest thing in the world. "—where you can go. Lay low for a while until this whole mess blows over."

But knowing Dianne, José had been more than certain that his suggestion would fall on deaf ears, as the woman would no doubt view it as running from something as inescapable as this. It was what had gotten her in the mess of it all, thinking that this life (the life she had tried her damnedest to push behind her) would forever remain vigilant in the shadows.

There was no escaping from this. But to think that it had gone this far—the bile threatened to escape the confinement of his stomach and José was quick to divert his attention towards Dianne.

It seemed as though he had made a mistake at assuming that the woman would brush off his suggestion, as Dianne had paused for a moment, her intent gaze traveling from the rifle towards him. "I'm not running from this," the woman mused in a soft voice before giving him a brief nod in regard, "—but I appreciate the thought. You have done enough for me and I cannot thank you enough."

He merely shook his head, running a hand across his face before contemplating Dianne with a mild look of frustration. "That's not what I meant, Dianne. You know better than to go in a battlefield with nothing but anger and revenge as your only weapons. That's the fastest way you're gonna get yourself killed," José paused for a moment and shrugged, "—if not for you then do it for Wren."

For a moment nothing but complete silence lingered between the two individuals as they silently stared at one another. Both lost in their own thoughts, leaving José wondering whether he had made a mistake at bringing up Wren.

That little girl had deserved better than the cruelty bestowed upon her.

"I suppose you're right," Dianne spoke with a soft smile, something that the man hadn't seen in a while. "—she'd want me to move on. I made her a promise," she shook her head as if recalling the memory once more, "—one that have every intention of breaking."

José didn't realize how much time passed as she continued on with the task at hand but he knew that he had given her something to think about. From all the years he had known her, Dianne wasn't a woman who went into a battle without learning her enemy from the inside out.

It took careful planning for everything to go according to plan, it was what made her a formidable opponent on the battlefield—a force to be reckoned with.

"I guess we should start packing then, shouldn't we?" For someone who claimed to be the smartest person in the world, it took him a while to comprehend what Dianne O'Neil had said because once her words registered through his mind, nothing stopped the grin from tugging at his lips.

"Dianne, I promise you. You're gonna _**love**_ Charming."

But despite his words, the man couldn't help but wonder whether he had just damned them to the pits of hell himself.

* * *

 _Author Note_ : I apologize for the shortness of this chapter. I had added more to make it more authentic, but not much to add confusion. Thank you for all the support and to those who have read till this point.

And for those who are wondering, I am basing Dianne's looks off of Kate Beckinsale. As for Dianne's background, I am revolving it around the character John Wick from the film John Wick. So henceforth, I don't own anything related to the film—as I thought it would be something different and unique.

Thank you.

Much love,

Nicole J. Coltan.


	3. — Chapter Three: Unwarranted Attention —

**Fallen From Grace**

 _by_ **Nicole J. Coltan.**

 _"It had taken one taste of temptation and she knew she'd follow him into the pits of hell..."_

 ** _Disclaimer_** : I in no means own anything related to the Sons of Anarchy. I merely own Dianne O'Neil, Wren O'Neil, José Fernandez and everything else which you don't recognize.

Chapter Edited: 2017/07/02.

 ** _Bold Italics — Memories/Flashbacks._**

 _Italics — Thoughts._

* * *

 ** _Chapter Three: Unwarranted Attention_**

* * *

In truth, Dianne O'Neil wasn't sure what to make of the quaint little town known as Charming. Up until three weeks ago, Dianne had no inclination that such a place existed—not that she was surprised.

Recalling the uneventful flight from Budapest to Los Angeles, Dianne had been rather grateful that the process of getting through the all the hustle and bustle had been nothing but smooth—not that she expected less from a man such as José Fernandez.

He had dubbed her visit to the States as a long term vacation, despite knowing that the moment the shit storm blew over, nothing and no one would stop her from taking the justice in her own hands. It had taken longer than what José had originally planned but having been given ample of enough time to get things ready when she landed, Dianne O'Neil could safely be considered as a citizen of the USA.

As far as the public was concerned, Dianne had been studying abroad for her Ph.D in Business Administration in the year 1999 before finally completing the course in 2008, something that seemed to boggle Dianne's mind—no doubt wondering what had possessed José to add that to background.

The only thing that seemed to be somewhat true were the multiple speeding tickets she had gotten throughout the years, a brief run in with the law —that had proved to be a misunderstanding on both parties— and a brief complaint on having made too much noise. _If only these people knew..._

She was in no means proud of the double life she had lived but knowing that the past was something she couldn't change, Dianne was forced to live with a constant reminder that it was a life not worth running from. It was the only life she had known, to be honest.

Dianne O'Neil was never a woman to act upon fear but after having discovered that she was pregnant, the soon to be mother had felt the full force of the nerve wrecking emotion.

But she had managed. She had left that life behind in hopes that she could give her little Wren the life she deserved—what good did that do her? She had failed as a mother, that much was for certain.

 _This is a life I cannot run from._ It ran deep into her veins, the burden of being in a profession such as hers.

"Don't think about that, Dianne." The woman chastised herself before focusing her thoughts on a more concerning matter.

It had been decided that in order for Dianne to blend in the small community of Charming, the woman would no doubt have to find a job, despite having enough money to see her into the foreseeable future.

But knowing that she'd get nowhere until she managed to get some organization in the mess that would be her home until further notice, Dianne knew she had it in for her the moment she took in the various boxes stacked and littered throughout the house.

It had been two days since she had arrived in Charming and nothing truly remarkable had happened, nothing that concerned her in the least—though other than the occasional rumble of a Harley Davidson passing by her house, nothing seemed to scream suspicious.

"Don't look at me like that," Dianne murmured in retaliation towards the beady eyes staring back at her in silent contemplation, as if waiting patiently for something, "—that's not fair."

The only response Dianne received from the eight month old beagle was a simple bark followed by a large yawn, something that seemed to melt away at the frustration she had felt moments before.

It reminded her of the look her daughter had perfected throughout the years whenever Dianne would be adamant at refusing something Wren needed, or what the little girl thought she needed. For it would forever remain her weakness; the sorrowful sight of puppy eyes. "Fine," she pointed a stern finger at the excited pup weaving through her legs. "—after today, no more junk food."

Diego —as her daughter had named her after the sabertooth tiger in Ice Age— had been at her side since the poor pup had finally realized that Wren was no longer. Dianne had refused to leave him behind in Budapest, knowing that a piece of her daughter would be left behind.

"Give me three minutes," Dianne murmured before pivoting towards the direction of her room, the sound of her bare feet bouncing off the walls nothing but a constant reminder that silence had become her companion.

Pulling on a sleeveless red blouse over her frame, Dianne merely huffed in contemplation before stripping herself from the track pants she had worn since arriving and traded it for a casual sky blue denim.

Making sure that she didn't look like she had just gotten out bed, Dianne took more than the three minutes she had promised—though not that she could be blamed. It had been days since she had taken a look at the mirror and the reflection staring back at her was enough to make her blink back the tears.

Vulnerable.

The death of her little girl weighed heavy on her shoulders, something that she doubted would ever leave. It didn't matter how many a times she scrubbed her hands clean, the blood of her daughter would forever remain imprinted in the skin itself. "No."

It stung but the pain was welcoming as she glanced at the reddening mark appearing on her cheek. Emotions to her had always been viewed as a weakness, something that would pull her down—though that had been until Dianne had given birth to Wren.

Opening up and showing more emotion than what she was use to was something she had never thought someone like her could ever achieve—.

A soft whimper roused the woman from her thoughts and Dianne glanced down at the source, a silent understanding passing between man and dog. "I miss her too, Dee."

Wren had meant the world to her and knowing that Dianne would no longer hear her little giggles and excited rambles brought a burning ache coursing through her veins. "Come on, bud."

Mustering the courage through the memories of her daughter, Dianne knew she needed to be strong for the hurricane heading her way.

Because like José Fernandez said.

 _God have mercy upon my enemies for I will have none._

* * *

Being the center of attention had been something Dianne O'Neil had become rather familiar with but this, this was just taking it to a whole other level.

 _Just relax, Dianne. It would do you no good to shoot the first person who approaches you._

Weaving through the different aisles, Dianne came to an understanding that Charming seemed to a close knit community—something that proved to be surprising. "Don't harass the nice folk, bud."

It was rather amusing to see the curious yet friendly gazes people would send her and though she returned it with a small smile of her own, Dianne couldn't help but feel exposed.

Something that José had warned her beforehand. It was the reason as to why the man had gone through such a length at providing a subtle background that would not raise many eyebrows. Because someone was bound to a background check on her, that Dianne O'Neil was certain of.

Glancing at the beagle sitting eagerly in the rather large trolley, Dianne raised a eyebrow at the excitement radiating from him. "Oh," the woman breathed in realization. "—you attention seeking bastard."

Diego was living the high life with the constant attention upon them, not that Dianne could blame him in the least. He was rather adorable and hard to resist.

 _Well at least one of us are having fun,_ Dianne thought dryly as she continued on towards the next aisle—the sudden delightful squeal of a young girl proved to be the only warning the woman received before the sight of a excited face peered back at her.

"It's a puppy," the little girl exclaimed in a eager tone, her face radiating nothing but happiness as she pampered Diego in thousands of kisses. "—and he's so cute."

Dumbfounded, Dianne simply stood there and watched the scene unfold before her. "Ellie Winston!" And just as quick as it happened, Dianne could only watch as realization dawned on the little girl's face before she retreated back into herself—something that the woman found rather odd for a girl so young.

"He likes you," Dianne reassured the small girl, Ellie —or what she hoped to be the little girl's name— and smiled encouragingly, "—you can pet him, if you want."

Continuing to blink at her in utter astonishment, Dianne found herself rather intimidated by the silence lingering between the two. But before the woman could rethink her offer and assure the little girl that all was fine, her hands had wrapped themselves around wriggling pup before easing him out the trolley, "He doesn't bite."

It took her breath away the moment the little girl's face beamed back at her in a smile that could only remind her of Wren. "He's so big." The girl exclaimed in absolute glee that brought a sense of relief towards the woman.

Placing the over eager pup on the ground, Dianne stood back and watched the scene unravel before her—a smile having found its way across her face without the woman noticing.

The girl seemed to be in her own little world, petting and rubbing his tummy with giggles tumbling from her mouth.

"What's his name?" Before she could process the question, the heavy thud of footsteps approaching them had the woman fighting back the urge to act on instinct—a paranoia that had settled deep into her bones since leaving Budapest.

"Daddy," the first thing that registered through Dianne O'Neil's mind was that the man approaching them was nothing but intimidating—and coming from her personally was saying something. "—isn't he adorable?"

Dianne O'Neil could safely admit that she had underestimated the small town of Charming, because the moment she caught his gaze—she knew that trouble was fast approaching.

Though not insanely drop dead gorgeous, Dianne would be dubbed as a liar if she said that she didn't find the man attractive, after all, she was a grown woman.

From his scruffy appearance, Dianne could honestly admit that she found herself lost in his eyes the moment their gaze locked on one another.

Because from the brief smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, Dianne O'Neil knew without a doubt that Charming had just gotten a hella' interesting and she didn't mind it one bit.

* * *

 _Author Note_ : I changed some sentences here and there and added a few things; though not by much. I am aware that pets aren't necessarily allowed in stores; but for the sake of my sanity, please pretend that this store allows such acts. Thanks once more for all the support and reviews for this chapter, as it means the world to me.

And for those who made it thus far, thanks for sticking until the end.

Much love,

Nicole J. Coltan.


	4. — Chapter Four: Unraveled —

**Fallen From Grace**

 _by_ **Nicole J. Coltan.**

 _"It had taken one taste of temptation and she knew she'd follow him into the pits of hell..."_

 ** _Disclaimer_** : I in no means own anything related to the Sons of Anarchy. I merely own Dianne O'Neil, Wren O'Neil, José Fernandez and everything else which you don't recognize.

Chapter Edited: 2017/07/02.

 ** _Bold Italics — Memories/Flashbacks._**

 _Italics — Thoughts._

* * *

 ** _Chapter Four: Unravaled._**

* * *

Broken.

It was an unspoken truth that lingered in the depths of his eyes that made Dianne wonder whether he knew that she could see straight through his cracked mask. Was it worth hiding behind a shattered façade?

Silence lingered between them, something that Dianne in no means found odd, though she remained aware of her surroundings and despite finding herself somewhat apprehensive of the giant looming before her, she also found herself curious.

He seemed rough around the edges, another trait that Dianne found rather charming and attractive—once again chastising herself for the direction her thoughts were taking, Dianne merely tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and continued to observe the man before her.

 ** _"I know this is something that you aren't comfortable with but please remember to utter complete sentences without sounding like emotionless bitch because it's necessary for you to make sure that you don't draw any unwanted attention to yourself. Don't reveal too much for people to start acting questions but don't be aloof about it either. And one more thing, please practice smiling."_** It wasn't the best advice she had heard but coming from a man such as José, Dianne didn't find it surprising that his words made sense.

Her daughter having been the only one to witness her true emotions behind closed doors, the task at portraying more emotions than what she was use too showing was feat that seemed impossible, that much she could admit without sounding like an emotionless bitch, as José Fernandez had dubbed it.

So with a air of confidence she had thought to be nonexistent, Dianne found herself smiling genuine at the surprised giant before her—though her smile was quick to disappear once she saw his quizzical gaze regard her with a small sense of curiosity.

"Daddy," capturing her attention once more, Dianne could only blink as the girl glanced up at her father with wide, pleading eyes, "—can we have a puppy, please!?

It was like someone had dumped a bucket of ice cold water over Dianne O'Neil at that moment, drenching her to the bone and shaking her out the funk that she had been in moments before.

The similarities that Ellie Winston shared with her daughter was something that the woman hadn't expected to find and though it pained her immensely to remind her aching heart that her little Wren was no longer, Dianne couldn't help but smile down at the girl.

It was a instant trigger that sent the woman reeling back, her eyes brimming with unshed tears as the memory assaulted her without having given her the slightest of warnings.

 ** _"Momma, can I have a puppy? I promise I'll look after him and clean—," the amused mother had stopped listening the moment her daughter's over eager rambles reached her ears because knowing that she'd end up being the one too clean up the mess, Dianne found herself reluctant to agree._**

 ** _But at the sight of large doe eyes staring back at her, Dianne could feel her resolve weakening because without thinking of the consequences, the mother nodded while pointing a stern finger at the beaming girl, "You're old enough to know that if I agree, you have to take responsibility for the dog. I am not cleaning up after—."_**

 ** _Arms wrapped tightly around her neck, effectively cutting off her speech and rendering her speechless, albeit momentarily. "I promise, momma. You're the best."_**

 ** _And not a week later, Diego O'Neil had become a member of the family and though her daughter's happiness meant more to her than anything else in the world, the mother could only huff in retaliation—because in the end, Dianne had been the one to clean after the mischievous duo._**

 ** _Not that she minded in the least._**

"I'm sorry," Dianne apologized once more at noticing the expectant expression on the man's face, "—care to repeat that?" He seemed rather reluctant to do so and it didn't take a fool to notice that he had witnessed her episode, the word sounding rather disturbing in her own mind.

"You're aware that your not wearing any shoes, right?"

It had taken all her self control not to combust at that moment when she finally registered his question and though he seemed amused, he also seemed surprised when she answered, "I don't make a habit of it but when I do, I like to stand out."

And though Dianne O'Neil prided herself at maintaining a calm front, nothing had prepared her for his comeback. "You don't even have to try." But she had failed miserably the moment her face heated up at the intensity behind his words, something that seldom happened to Dianne.

"I'm sorry," she murmured before extending her hand towards the man, "—it would seem that I've forgotten my manners in Budapest. Dianne O'Neil." Despite her reluctancy to reveal anything from her background just yet, Dianne supposed it wouldn't hurt to introduce herself.

He grunted in acknowledgement and shook her hand firmly, "Opie Winston." For some reason, Dianne couldn't help but find the name strange. Though being a person who had been raised to never judge a person by appearance, the woman kept her thoughts to herself.

Her interest had been piqued once she registered the fact that the man was wearing a leather kutte with the words _Redwood Original_ worn on the right and _Men of Mayhem_ worn on the left.

"You're in a MC?" Dianne questioned without second thought, watching his expression with rapt interest. He seemed somewhat taken aback at her question and she elaborated by gesturing towards his kutte, "Your kutte."

Dianne was once more surprised at the utter look of shock crossing his face at the word tumbling from her lips, an expression that Dianne couldn't help but smile at—another trait that seemed foreign to her.

It was rather shocking that she could hold up a conversation without sounding aloof and Dianne found it rather refreshing for a change, though it was a piece of information the woman kept to herself.

Wren had always said that she should get out more—expressing her concern constantly that her mother couldn't go on in life alone and though Dianne reassured her daughter that she wasn't alone and that she had her, Wren merely informed her mother that the woman knew that wasn't what she had meant.

 _Kids these days. Too smart for their own good._ It took her a second to realize that a silence had settled over the two and Dianne once more found herself immersed in the hazel orbs gazing back at her.

 _You can lie all you want but I know the truth_. The woman couldn't help but frown at the notion that she knew something so intimate about the man that she couldn't help but sigh, "It never gets any easier. The most painful goodbyes are the ones that are never said and never explained..."

It was his expression that initiated Dianne to overreact, because the moment the words slipped from her mouth, trepidation was quick to settle in as it occurred to her that she had overstepped her boundaries.

So without waiting for the man's reply as he stared at her in the most intense way that made her squirm, Dianne glanced at Diego and hummed in response, "It was nice meeting you both but I'd best be on my way."

From all the options presented to her at that moment, Dianne O'Neil took the easiest route and without sparing anyone a backwards glance, the woman chastised herself as she reluctantly abandoned the rather full trolley in a vacant aisle before making her way towards the exit, the patter of Diego's nails scraping against the tiled floor the only reassuring presence that she didn't belong in this world.

Dianne O'Neil considered herself as a woman of many talents but speaking her mind was not one of them, which made her conscious question where she had gotten the gall for speaking in such a manner. For all she could—.

"You say that you don't care but why is his reaction bothering you so?" That was the point, Dianne O'Neil didn't care what the man thought of her now, because for all she knew, this would be the first and last time she'd see him again—but she'd be lying if she said it didn't bother her.

Doubt.

It pushed back at the forefront of her mind as she recalled what she had said, knowing all to well that she should put her pride in her pocket and apologize. "I am such an idiot." It was then and there that Dianne decided that if she ever saw Opie Winston again, she'd apologize profusely for blurting out the words she had intended to keep in her mind, though not that her apology should be taken for guilt at what she had said.

She had seen enough in herself to know that the man regarded himself as nothing but a failure—a fascinating trait that Dianne had picked up throughout the years. Reading people had become a second nature to her and despite being a woman who kept mostly to herself, Dianne knew she had just dug her own grave.

Because at that moment, Dianne O'Neil knew she hadn't seen the last of Opie Winston. And whether the warmth fluttering in her stomach was either the cause of trepidation or excitement, Dianne knew that her trouble had just started.

And to think she had only been in Charming less that seventy four hours and she was already cooking up trouble.

"Great first impression," Dianne chastised herself as she eased herself in the leather seats of the 69' Ford Mustang GT, "—Dianne. Let's hope Charming stays Charming."

She had a feeling she needed something stronger than a shot of whiskey.

Because whether she liked it or not, her stay in Charming might be the best thing that had happened to her since the incident and that fact alone scared her more than what she would have liked to admit.

* * *

 _Author Note:_ Not much here had been changed, but a few things had been corrected and added. I had every intention of changing how Dianne reacted but considering that I'm hesitant to change anything major, I refrained from doing so. And yes, Dianne was indeed barefoot, and yes, a proclaimed assassin fled with her tail tucked between her legs.

I mean I don't intend to make Dianne heartless, so I am going to include random and WTF moments.

I would like to thank everyone for the reviews, alerts and support in general. It means the world to me.

Thank you so much,

Nicole J. Coltan


	5. — Chapter Five: Charmed —

**Fallen From Grace**

 _by_ _Nicole J. Coltan._

 _"It had taken one taste of temptation and she knew she'd follow him into the pits of hell..."_

 _ **Disclaimer**_ : I in no means own anything related to the Sons of Anarchy. I merely own Dianne O'Neil and the imagination that conjures her.

Chapter Edited: 2017/07/02.

 ** _Bold Italics_** — **_Memories/Flashbacks_**.

 _Italics — Thoughts_.

* * *

 _ **Chapter Five: Charmed.**_

* * *

Pain.

It was a constant presence within her own mind each moment she'd glimpse the image reflected back at her, a reminder that the aching hole in her heart would forever remain etched at the bottom of her heart. It was a welcoming embrace she cherished, the ominous silence that would constantly surround her whenever she found

herself deep in thought.

Guilt.

Anger.

Trepidation.

Despite being an independent woman who rarely relied on the help of others, Dianne found it hard to admit these emotions to herself—as it alone made her more vulnerable than she had ever thought possible.

It never came easy; loving another and being loved in return, being exposed to a world she had never known before and having to know that it was something she'd never have again.

Dianne O'Neil could honestly admit that the thought made her stomach quiver, and not in the most pleasant of ways.

The feeling of exposure once more returned and it was something that Dianne O'Neil did not like, not one bit.

But it remained persistent, knocking down the walls she had carefully built in hopes that uselessness would not return once more. It still remained a fresh sound—the bloodied, battered and bruised form of what had once been her little girl.

It was an image that would forever remain etched in her mind and the sudden appearance of Ellie Winston had caused such a wound to reopen, but not in a sense that Dianne could blame her.

It wasn't her fault that she shared the same innocence as her little Wren.

It just proved to be a little too much Dianne could handle at the time. She had believed herself to be strong enough to handle the day to day life expected from her but functioning without her little girl was proving to be a much higher mountain to conquer.

She had come undone. And to say that she was ashamed of the incident that had occurred yesterday evening would be a gross understatement.

Emotions such as these were something Dianne O'Neil was in no means familiar with, as she had been alone for such a long time that she had mistook them to be nonexistent.

What made him so special? To elicit such a reaction from her? To make her feel guilt for what she had said—for being a woman who never stuck her nose in where matters didn't concern her, the mere notion that she had done just so made her blood boil.

But Dianne O'Neil couldn't allow herself to be distracted, nor could she allow herself to get attached. She had been through enough to know that it would only cause more heartache than necessary.

She needed a clear mind but knowing as long as the man remained within her thoughts, Dianne knew it would be easier said than done. It had often crossed her mind that she could have been cursed since the day she had been born—burdened to live a life without happiness, a life without normalcy.

It had been obvious that Dianne would follow in her father's footsteps, despite having never known the man. The last she had seen him was on her fourth birthday and that memory alone proved to be nothing but a blur of color and distorted voices. James O'Neil had been nothing but a gentleman when her mother, Jessica McLaren, had met him. And like the classical twist, her mother had described it as love at first sight.

It never bothered her that she couldn't remember either parent but having known enough about her mother, Dianne couldn't blame the woman for packing up and leaving—for the life of a hitman wasn't as easy as James Bond made it seem, especially being involved with one.

From what she had been told, her father was an amazing, caring man and despite his profession, he had done his best to provide for her—something that she held dear to her heart, as it was more than what she could have said about her mother, despite feeling remorse to a woman who couldn't handle the truth.

But like all good things, the brief life of normalcy that Dianne had the privilege of having ended in a rather familiar twist that send her blood boiling. The death of her father had been anything but surprising, as she had been raised believing that Death came in all forms.

 **Betrayal** being the most _atrocious_.

She had been blinded by a sense of vengeance she could not remember having and being at the tender age of six at the time, Dianne O'Neil had no other choice but to leave the act of justice in the hands of what society deemed as the _professionals_.

It had taken her years to simmer down the immense hatred she felt towards the man that had taken her father but as the fire within her dimmed to a nonexistent flame, Dianne O'Neil had been introduced to a world filled with lies, corruption and deceit.

 ** _For the world of assassination is everywhere and once you know, there's no going back._**

* * *

It was the familiar rumble of a Harley that awoke the woman from the deep unconsciousness that had claimed her hours ago, something that seemed rather surprising as sleep didn't come easy.

For a moment Dianne O'Neil simply blinked at the dull colored ceiling above and wondered when the world had gone to shit—a question that would not be answered to the likes of her. With the nightmare still fresh in her mind, the exhausted woman shambled off the bed and stretched with a tired yawn.

 _Now that's something new_. Rubbing a hand across her face, Dianne shimmied on a pair of cotton pants over her legs before wrapping herself in a grey sweater a few sizes to big for her—which in turn made her look like a drowned rat.

 ** _"Momma, you look silly._** " She tried her damnedest not to smile at the words echoing through her mind but recalling the fond memory of her daughter, Dianne could only blink back at the image staring back at her.

And once more she knew that lying to herself was an option she couldn't afford. It didn't take a fool to notice that the woman was nothing but a mess waiting to happen but knowing that she had more control than that, Dianne merely mustered the courage through the memories of her daughter and smiled at her reflection. "I'm going to be fine. Just another day. Nothing to be worried about."

Ever aware that Diego was watching her movements with intense caution, Dianne had no other choice but to smile in reassurance.

"Want some custard?" It was a delicacy that the pup seemed to enjoy—because thanks to her daughter, Diego just couldn't seem to continue through the day without having his breakfast in the morning.

A bark was her only response before Diego excitedly left the comforting warmth of her bed before speeding past her, nails scraping against the floor in haste to be the first one in line.

"Spoiled brat." Dianne murmured in amusement before trailing after the pup, a sudden frown pulling her eyebrows together and cursed aloud. "I didn't get the custard."

Having left everything in her haste to get the hell out of dodge, Dianne O'Neil knew that Diego would not forgive her if she didn't give him the custard he so rightfully deserved—as it was a rule in the O'Neil household to never break routine.

"Guess I'll be making that trip sooner rather than later," thanking the lord that she was wearing suitable clothing for making another appearance in town, Dianne reached for the keys laying on the kitchen counter and whistled, "—Dee, let's go." If there was one thing that could get the pup out his custard funk, it would be the mention of riding shotgun in the Mustang.

Pulling her arms through the sleeves of her leather jacket, Dianne glanced down at the quizzical gaze shimmering behind beady eyes and sighed, "I forgot it, okay. Now stop looking at me like I kicked you."

 _Look at me. Losing my mind. Explaining shit to a dog_. Wren had always believed that animals, especially dogs, could understand what was being said to them—especially when emotions were put behind said words. That little girl always had a odd knack at explaining things through her eyes, a miracle that Dianne managed to understand them.

Making sure that she seemed presentable, Dianne glanced at her bare feet and grimaced. "I see you trying that shit again." Sliding on a pair of floral pumps —something she had started wearing after her own pair of shoes, which at the time had been combat boots, mysteriously disappeared— and startled when a familiar roar greeted her the moment she stepped unto the porch.

 _You have got to be joking._ But there in the flesh, immersed in his own little world, was Opie Winston. It seemed ironic that the man turned out to be her neighbor but for the life of her, Dianne couldn't help but curse her rotten luck.

Glancing down at Diego, the pup seemed to understand the plea hidden behind her eyes and yawned before plopping himself on the cool, wooden surface. "Thank you." Having tossed and turned for the majority of the night, scolding and reprimanding herself for having been a coward at fleeing at the worst possible second, Dianne knew that she needed to apologize.

And then it occurred to her at that moment—the question that had remained hidden within the shadows. What was the reason behind this insatiable need to apologize to a man she hardly knew?

It seemed foreign to the woman as she slowly stepped down the steps leading to her small, quaint little home before making her way across the street—finding herself rather nervous with each nearing step.

 _God he's gorgeously manly._ She didn't even bother to hide the fact that she was openly ogling him as he continued to tinker and prod away at the Harley situated proudly in the driveway.

 _Shut up. There's something wrong with you. All this Californian air is messing with your brain, killer._ It put a damper on her mood the moment the thoughts traveled through her mind but knowing that it was too late to turn back, Dianne took another moment to appreciate his bulking form before clearing her throat, standing a respectful distance away.

"Hi," his head swiveled upwards, his body soon following before she found herself dwarfed once more in his presence. A frown pulled his eyebrows together before realization dawned on his face and knowing this to be her chance, Dianne quickly added, "—I promise I am not a stalker. I just live across the street," she gestured towards her house and elaborated further, much to his amusement, "—and I saw you over here and thought I'd apologize for how I acted yesterday. I am not exactly ashamed of what I said, but I acted out on emotion and I can't take it back, not that I would. Because I'm not apologizing for what I said even if I just said," she shook her head and breathed deeply through her nose, "—I guess I don't have a filter when it comes to my thoughts nowadays but—."

"I see you're wearing shoes," she blinked at his words and glanced down her feet, smiling briefly before groaning once it seemed to register in her mind that she had wasted an entire two minutes rambling at nothing in particular and frowned, "—and you don't need to apologize, Dianne."

 _Oh my God! He remembered my name._ Of course her mind would get stuck on that fact alone. Composing herself and fighting the urge to squeal, Dianne cleared her throat and smiled, despite the giddiness she felt at hearing her name tumble from his luscious lips —what the fuck?— and blinked, "I would like to believe that my father raised me better than that. I'm not apologizing for what I said but I am apologizing for how I acted. I've seen enough in my life to know that it's not worth wearing a mask." And there she went again, speaking out when his personal life didn't concern her.

"I don't know you and I'm quite sure I'll hate myself for speaking my mind again but," taking a deep breath once more, it took all Dianne's willpower not to look anywhere else but his eyes, "—life is full of disappointments, failures and setbacks. None of those things can permanently stop you. You have the power in you to overcome anything that life throws at you. There is nothing as powerful as a made up mind. Surround yourself with people who remind you that you matter, and support you in ways that matter most to you. No person, situation, or circumstance can define who you are. Don't give up, cave in, or stop believing that it's possible. It's not over until you win, because from my perspective, you are not a failure."

 _You just can't shut up can you? Take it back, turn around and—_. A genuine smile spread across his face as he stared down at her, disbelief and something akin to wonder shimmering behind his eyes as he regarded her with such intensity that it took her breath away, "You sure know your way around words, woman."

Her cheeks warmed up and against her better judgement, Dianne shrugged up at him and smiled. "Good thing or a bad thing? I'm not normally like this," a frown settled between her eyebrows, contemplating whether she had made a mistake at approaching him, "—so open. I mean it's none of my business and I'm—."

He gestured for her to keep quiet, the smile still ever present on his face. "Nah," he shook his head and scratched at his cheek, something that Dianne found rather adorable for a man his size, "—its something new. But I'll accept your apology if," her heart hammered in her chest as a tense silence lingered between the two, "—you agree to have dinner with me."

So much for attachment. "Well that's a relief," Dianne exclaimed while tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, "—I almost thought you'd make me grovel at your feet." Not that she'd mind if he asked.

And at his expecting expression, Dianne couldn't help but wonder whether she just sold herself to the Devil himself, "I'd like that. I'll cook," before he could protest, Dianne smiled once more, "—its the least I can do for running my mouth again. Seven good for you?"

"I'll be there."

 _What are you doing, Dianne?_

* * *

 _ **Author Note:**_ Grammar mistakes have been dealt with and original dialogue had been changed. I just want to thank everyone who has read till thus far, as it means the world to me. I hope that this chapter didn't disappoint, though that's a question towards the new readers, but in general notion. I am almost done with making sure everything's smooth and easy before I update the newest chapters.

Thanks for all the reviews, alerts and support in general.

Much love,

Nicole J. Coltan.


	6. — Chapter Six: Sunrise —

**Fallen From Grace**

 _by_ _Nicole J. Coltan._

 _"It had taken one taste of temptation and she knew she'd follow him into the pits of hell..."_

 _ **Disclaimer**_ : I in no means own anything related to the Sons of Anarchy. I merely own Dianne O'Neil and the imagination that conjures her.

Chapter Edited: 2017/07/02.

 ** _Bold Italics_** — **_Memories/Flashbacks_**.

 _Italics — Thoughts_.

* * *

 _ **Chapter Six: Sunrise**_

* * *

 ** _"—just think this through, Dianne. I am not dictating how you should live your life but don't you think it's a little soon? You have enough trouble as is and getting involved with the law is something that will bring a hailstorm of problems for you."_** José's words continued to echoe through her mind, and though she knew he was only looking out for her, Dianne couldn't help but wonder whether his words were told in precaution or something much more darker?

But if Dianne O'Neil was being completely honest with herself, the thought mortified her the longer she milled around the events that transpired hours prior. What had possessed her to agree remained a mystery but having been berated and consoled for the past hour, Dianne knew that she should end things before it went too far.

She had seen enough in her life to know that nothing good would come from this but no matter how hard she tried to convince her mind that this wasn't what she needed, her heart said otherwise. Dianne O'Neil had once been considered as cold, heartless and devoid of any humane emotion and for a time, she had believed that to be true—until she had fallen pregnant with Wren.

 ** _"I can't be—I can't be a mother. I can't give my child the life they deserve."_**

The thought of being a mother had never crossed her mind and knowing that the world of assassination was not a place to raise a child, Dianne O'Neil had been in a state of panic when she realized she didn't have it in her to go through with an abortion. She had taken countless lives before but the thought of ending her own flesh and blood was something she couldn't bring herself to do—but had she gone through with it, would she have found herself in this mess?

It frustrated her, all these thoughts and emotions colliding with one another, creating nothing but chaos in their wake. What had she done to deserve this? But never in her life could she remember a man smiling at her the way Opie Winston had—even if it wasn't intentional, it still made her blush like a teenage girl.

"No more custard, Dee. I'm not falling for that look," Dianne mused sending a fleeting glance towards the pup lazing at her feet before returning her attention back towards the task at hand, "—I've spoiled you enough as is."

She had spent the majority of her morning doing nothing but shopping, making sure to buy enough groceries that would last her longer than a week, Dianne had found herself at loss of what to do, considering that she had agreed to cook for a man who made her heart beat faster than what it should. And the fact that it was a man she hardly knew made her suspiciously aware that this was something that she had no control over; the unwarranted emotions overtaking both her mind and heart.

 _I don't even know what he likes and doesn't like. Does he eat meat? Of course he eats meat, you idiot. A man his size—what kind of question is that? Would he be fine with eating a delicious home cooked meal or should I just throw something random together and hopes he doesn't—._

It was during the time when these questions assaulted her out of nowhere when she heard the calm voice of her daughter reach out, **_"Momma, just take a deep breath and relax. I'm sure that he'll like anything you cook—just make sure not to burn anything and remember to give him the O'Neil charm._** "

It made her swallow a rather large lump and for a moment, she had scoured the house from top to bottom in search of her daughter only to realize that other than her four legged companion, the house remained vacant. "Please give me strength."

The pan sizzling brought the woman from her thoughts and Dianne quickly glanced at the time and blinked. It was almost six, so she still had a hour to finish up and make herself somewhat presentable—not that she thought this to be a date, which it wasn't.

 _Dianne O'Neil didn't do dating. You can't fool yourself, Dianne._ Who was she kidding? What else could this be classified as? The thought alone made her tremble in nervousness because in truth, no man such as Opie Winston would put up with her if he knew how damaged she was.

And once more she contemplated on ending the whole thing. He had enough problems as is, that much she could deduce from the emotions brimming behind his eyes. But clinging on the small thread of hope that her reformed within her, Dianne couldn't help but yearn for someone who's fight for her with tooth and nail.

"Hush, O'Neil. Should I get some candles?" Slapping the palm of her hand against the kitchen counter, Dianne couldn't believe she had just asked that aloud. This wasn't some romantic comedy—this was reality and she doubted people used said item anymore.

The man would probably think her creepy once he caught sight of the candles littered around the dining room. "I'm so excited, Dee and I don't even know what I'm doing."

Diego, the ever observant beagle merely cocked his head to the side and yapped at her. "But don't worry," she assured him with a wink, "—you're the only man I need." He seemed satisfied with her words and continued to laze about the house.

Making sure that she hadn't burned mushrooms, Dianne inhaled the fresh smell of mint, garlic and butter. For her, a nice mushroom sauce always went well with a steak—because really, what was better than a medium, rare steak?

 _I really hopes he likes this. I mean I don't have to impress him, pretty much made a fool of myself but I really hopes he appreciates what I tried doing._ In truth, Dianne wasn't sure what to expect as she hurriedly started setting the table, making sure that each utensil was placed in the right order before nodding at her work. "Not romantic but not too dull. Perfecto."

Knowing that she didn't have enough time to take another quick shower, Dianne hurried towards her bedroom and paused. This wasn't like her, acting like a school girl about to confront her crush. It was a foreign feeling and yet Dianne seemed to like the warmth it created in her stomach.

Shaking her thoughts from her mind, the woman glided through the room in search of something presentable to wear. Not knowing why it was so important to make a lasting impression, Dianne merely decided that the scallops black dress would have to do.

He should be here any minute. Smoothing down the invisible wrinkles in her dress, Dianne bided her time with sipping at the sweet rosé wine she had poured herself, occasionally glancing at the time as she did so.

He was just running late, she assured herself despite the fact that the man was living across the street from her. But with each passing minute over seven, Dianne couldn't help but feel worried. Had something happened?

Shaking the thoughts from her mind, she could hardly comprehend the flood of emotions running rampant through her the more she fought against the disappointment coiling in her muscles.

"He's not coming, Dee."

 ** _"I'll be there."_**

He had said it with such certainty that she couldn't help but feel cheated. It was well past eight but Dianne still held unto hope that he'd turn up and express his condolences for being late but deep down, Dianne knew that wouldn't be the case.

Dianne O'Neil had her fair share of disappointments and though this didn't even touch the tip of the iceberg, that didn't necessarily mean that it didn't hurt any less. But being a woman who didn't depend on a man, Dianne couldn't help but question her morals the longer she found herself staring at the vacant seat opposite her.

"Dianne O'Neil," she murmured into the silence, eyes closed and head leaned back, "—you are an idiot." Yes, yes she was. It shouldn't have mattered, but in truth, despite the fact that the man remained an anomaly to her, Dianne would have been lying if she said he didn't intrigue her.

Not having touched anything in her plate, Dianne simply stared down at the cold food mocking her in return and grumbled in disdain. Pathetic. She couldn't grasp the meaning behind the dreadful feeling stirring in her stomach, a clear sign that this was how it was meant to be.

And despite her having known —deep down— that something like this was bound to happen, that didn't stop her from sitting there, immersed in silence, thoughts racing through her mind until the sun had started rising the next day and only when Diego had whined in protest, did she allow herself to clean up after the mess she had made. "I don't need no man, Dee. I got you and that's enough for me."

And once again, Dianne O'Neil knew she was just fooling herself. Because like it or not, Opie Winston refused to leave her thoughts.

* * *

Failure.

It was a constant reminder he found staring at him each time he stood in front of the mirror. It was like staring at a ghost, a shell of the man he had once been.

The man in the mirror wasn't him and he doubted he'd ever get that part from him back. He had failed his children and he had failed his wife. For a time, he had allowed himself to think that he could have become a better man for his family and in return, life turned out to be a bitch waiting around the corner.

He should have listened to her but instead he had turned a blind eye and assured her that everything would be fine. But it turned out to be far from fine. Because like all good things, karma had a knack for turning the tables.

He just hadn't seen it coming. For so long he had thought that he could drown out the despair that had consumed him and for a while, he had contemplated whether the club was even worth all the sacrifices he had made.

But having never questioned the club before, the man had distanced himself from everyone and everything he had ever known—including his children. Had it not been for the wake up call he had gotten three months prior, there was no doubt in his mind that life would have seemed meaningless without them, his flesh and blood.

Because God be his witness, he had tried his hardest to be there for them; something that he had disregarded in a selfish need to rid himself from drowning in anger, guilt and the knowledge of being a failure.

He had asked for a second chance, knowing that he did not deserve it—and for what seemed like an eternity, the man had thought himself beyond that of Redemption.

 ** _"You're not a failure."_**

 _You pathetic piece of shit_. It was the first thought that popped in his mind the moment his surroundings finally meshed in one familiar picture—one that made the man groan out in absolute grief and despite being somewhat relieved that he hadn't fucked his way through the night, the fact of what he had done still made his eyes squeeze shut in guilt.

And to make matters worse, he had no real reason to explain why he had chosen to remain at the clubhouse, drinking himself in a stupor to drown out the guilt he knew he'd feel the moment the clock struck seven. "I'm an idiot." Yes, yes he was.

His behavior was questionable as he made his presence known the moment he plopped himself at the barstool.

He had tried his damnedest to get through the day without succumbing to the rage boiling underneath the surface but considering that it didn't take a blind man to notice the tension coiled deep in his muscles, he couldn't help but growl the moment the familiar blue eyes of Jax stared back at him in concern.

"I'm not going to pretend I know what's going on but whatever it is, deal with it. I need your head in the game, Ope." It was easier said than done but knowing his brother's concern to be genuine, Opie knew that he had to get his shit together.

Especially when said shit concerned a certain woman who refused to leave his thoughts. "I fucked up man." Jax was the only one who knew about Dianne and as far as he was concerned, Opie didn't want anyone else in the club knowing about her—not yet and not ever.

Because it didn't take a fool to notice that Dianne O'Neil had made an immense impact on him the moment she uttered those simple words. "The most painful goodbyes are the ones that are never said and never explained..."

He couldn't deny that she had taken him by surprise—with her bare feet and all, she had made a lasting impression on the man and he didn't even bother to deny it.

She was a breath of fresh air and despite questioning himself over and over again, he couldn't help the immense need to keep her all to himself. But she didn't belong to him.

 ** _Jesus_** , he hardly knew the woman and she was already making him do things he would have never done before.

The only other woman to ever make him feel like this had been his Donna and look where that had gotten her. Death was an inevitable occurrence and despite the Reaper coming for all, Opie couldn't help but feel cheated that his wife had been taken from him in such a cruel irony.

"I'll be there." What had possessed him to say those words he'd never knew but for some reason, he couldn't just watch her leave without—. He really fucked things up and he had no idea how to fix them.

"You need me here?" He watched on in silent contemplation as Jax stared at him knowingly, a brief grin flashing across his boyish face before clapping him on the shoulder.

"She sure must be something for you to act like this," you have no idea, "—go make things right." He didn't need further encouragement as he stood from the barstool, downing the shot of Jack Daniels Juice had set out for him and nodded his thanks.

 ** _"You are not a failure, Opie Winston."_**

And for some reason, he wanted to believe her.

* * *

Author Note: I changed a few things here and there and did my best to make sure all grammar mistakes have been corrected and to clear anything confusing. Thanks for all the reviews, alerts and support.

I am rather pleased as to how these chapters are looking, as I am not feeling disappointed—which I think is a good thing, right?

Much love,

Nicole J. Coltan.


	7. — Chapter Seven: Benefits —

**Fallen From Grace**

 _by_ _Nicole J. Coltan._

 _"It had taken one taste of temptation and she knew she'd follow him into the pits of hell..."_

 _ **Disclaimer**_ : I in no means own anything related to the Sons of Anarchy. I merely own Dianne O'Neil and the imagination that conjures her.

Chapter Edited: 2017/07/02.

 ** _Bold Italics_** — **_Memories/Flashbacks_**.

 _Italics — Thoughts_.

* * *

 _ **Chapter Seven: Benefits**_

* * *

 ** _"Don't confuse killing and murder. Murder is for amateurs, killing is for the professionals."_**

It had been the words of her father that kept Dianne O'Neil from loosing her sanity—one that kept her balanced and grounded at the edge of the precipice, the darkened netherworld below becoming hungered with each passing second.

It didn't take a fool to know that hell had a special place reserved for her and her alone—a clear reminder of the sins she had committed throughout her life and despite not being the definition of a proud woman, it was the only life Dianne knew.

Happiness was something she didn't deserve and Dianne was quite content with that fact alone. Years spent with her daughter had taught her a valuable lesson and though she did what she could too remember them, the inkling shadows of doubt was never far behind.

It was the reason why she couldn't find it within herself to be angered at the fact that he had been a no show and despite admitting that it hurt, Dianne couldn't blame the man for having second thoughts.

Had he any idea of who and what she was, Dianne doubted that he would have given her a second chance to make things right. Hours she had milled around the idea that she had done something wrong but after scolding herself for being a woman in control of her own thoughts and emotions, Dianne wasn't sure what to believe anymore.

The turbulent emotions raging within her was enough to make the woman stumble closer to the precipice, holding unto what little sanity she had left while maintaining her balance in hopes that she wouldn't tumble off the edge and into the desolate darkness below.

A darkness that had begun to consume her from the inside out. Dianne O'Neil knew enough about the endless black void to know that there was no going back—not where you were in too deep.

" ** _Darkness. When everything you know and love is taken away from you, so harshly, all you can think about is anger, hatred and even revenge. And no one can save you."_**

The thunderous bang echoing through the house was enough to rouse Dianne from her thoughts, a frown pulling her eyebrows together before glancing at the confused expression flashing across Diego's orbs, "Hush."

Having an inkling feeling as to who it might be, Dianne schooled her expression and unknowingly smoothed out the wrinkles of the dress—still wearing the same black scallops dress from the previous night—and approached the door with cautioned steps, "Dianne?"

Despite knowing that she shouldn't have been bothered about the whole mess, Dianne couldn't find it within herself to open the door.

Confrontations revolving around situations such as these had always been something she had never excelled in and knowing that she'd end up making a fool of herself, Dianne merely stared at the door; silently willing the man to turn around and leave.

She didn't need this. She didn't have time for this. But despite her inner debate, Dianne couldn't quite quench the unease filling her gut as she reached for the doorknob—ever aware that this might change things. God, she hadn't even been in Charming for a week and she was already stirring up trouble.

 _What are you doing?_ She hesitated at the sound of footsteps retreating, assuring herself that it was for the best that she not get involved. Because were something to—. "You don't have to apologize," unaware of when she had opened the door, Dianne stared at the still form of Opie Winston towering over her, "—I understand." Did she understand? No, she didn't but for the sake of keeping all things under control, Dianne could pretend. No harm in pretending, was there?

Goosebumps tickled her skin at the heated gaze traveling over her slim form and though she had been ogled by men before, something about how this man stared at her made her heart beat faster and her cheeks warm, "Jesus."

She blinked dumbfounded at the curse tumbling from his lips and smiled, "I've been called worse." He seemed to snap out whatever daze his mind had pulled him into and grinned at her. "But you really don't have to apologize." Yes, yes he did have to apologize, considering that he had been the one to suggest having dinner in the first place—and then being a no show; well that certainly out a damper on the feelings the man stirred within her (feelings that she could not place, nor understand.)

He frowned at her words, his thick eyebrows pulling together before taking a small step towards her, "I fucked up and I'm sorry." Dianne blinked furiously at the man, his words echoing through her mind. Out of all the things he could have said, saying he fucked up was something that she had not expected. "I'm not going to come up with some lame ass excuse—."

Her mouth had a mind of its own and Dianne couldn't help but grumble inwardly to herself. "Do you want some coffee?" The question floored him and though she found herself amused at his expression of disbelief and relief, Dianne couldn't help but question her actions once more, "I don't have beer otherwise I would have offered that instead."

And once more, Dianne couldn't help the shiver running down her spine at the warm smile the man gave in return, "Sure. Coffee sounds nice."

It was at that moment when Dianne O'Neil realized that the voices in her head had finally gone silent. And she wasn't sure entirely sure what to make of it.

Watching his expression with rapt attention, Dianne hesitantly closed the door behind her and grinned, "I'm still in the ropes of unpacking all this." He seemed amused at her embarrassment but decided to hide it with a mirthful smile.

"I wasn't gonna say anything," he murmured with a shrug, his smile widening. It was a sight that made Dianne tremble and she had an inkling feeling that he knew what affect he had on her. "It looks nice."

Not sure whether she should point out that a house full of boxes was anything but nice, Dianne remembered the reason why she had a giant in her living room and smiled, "Come on. Kitchen's this way."

Sending a stern glance towards Diego, the beagle pup merely remained cautious of the unknown man entering the kitchen, Dianne turned towards him and grinned.

He seemed so out of place in the small kitchenette that she couldn't help but scoff in amusement, bidding her time at preparing the coffee. "So," Dianne mused breaking the silence, "—you do know you're not going to get any taller standing there. I'm pretty sure my chairs will hold you."

A throaty laugh rumbled from his chest and once more, Dianne fought against the emotions brewing within her, "You saying I'm fat?"

She blanched at his question and whirled around to face him, arms raised in surrender and head shaking from side to side, "That is not what I meant. Now sit your ass down and drink your coffee."

She seemed more surprised at the words tumbling from her mouth than he did, not that he seemed to mind—from the contagious grin flashing across his face, Dianne knew she was doomed.

She smiled in embarrassment, watching him sip away at the dark liquid sloshing away in his mug all the while staring at her.

"You should smile more, it's cute."

She wasn't sure whether she should combust in flames or snort, because damn this man for bringing forth a side of her she never thought existed.

Sipping at the darkened liquid, Dianne scrunched her nose and peered at him, "Flattery won't get you anywhere, Mr. Winston." The woman murmured, eyebrows dropping low to prove her point and despite her initial need to smile in amusement once more, Dianne refrained from doing so and shrugged.

"Was worth a shot," Opie murmured eyeing her with mirth, which was quick to disappear as a thought had struck him, "—you going somewhere?" At the confusion no doubt expressed in her face, Dianne finally realized the meaning behind his question and glanced down at her dress.

"No," she murmured with a frown, and shrugged before taking a sip of her coffee, "—I actually wore this last night, which proved to be a waste of time." The expression on his face was enough to make Dianne choke on thin air and she was quick to assure him, "I didn't mean it like that."

It was at that moment that Dianne O'Neil officially decided that she needed a filter to keep her thoughts from escaping—because despite the fact that she shouldn't care whether this man had shown up or not, the expression on his face was enough to make her heart beat in guilt.

"Jesus," he breathed placing the mug on the table and easing himself out the chair, his massive form dwarfing her once more. "I am so sorry, Dianne. I had no idea that—."

Having placed her own cup on the table, Dianne crossed her arms and shrugged, "That I wouldn't wait up for you?" At her admittance, the man's shoulders visibly sagged and the woman couldn't refrain herself from smiling.

"Don't feel bad," Dianne murmured with a hint of a smile showing on her face, her finger lazily pointing at his feet, "—considering that someone benefited from it all."

Blinking down at the pup peering up at him, Opie frowned before chuckling in response, "I'm sure he did." Mumbling something else along the line, Dianne uncrossed her arms and once more reached for the cup of discarded coffee and sipped.

"He has you to thank for a full tummy." It couldn't be helped, Dianne mused to herself at the audible groan emitting from the man before her. "I mean I can cook a pretty good steak."

He shot a bewildered towards her and huffed—a look that Dianne found immensely adorable. "Can I have rain check?"

* * *

 **Budapest**.

It remained a rather daunting task to keep visual on a man who knew he was being watched and despite being a man who enjoyed himself in the pleasures of a good hunt, José Fernandez had been growing rather tired of this game of cat and mouse.

Knowing that the shadows would do his bidding, the man casually kept his distance while observing all around him—his target never straining to far from him. It hadn't been his intention to dig up a past that should have remained hidden but recalling the promise he had made, what man would he be if he did keep his word?

The rumbles above him did nothing to deter the man from his task, the heavy rain beating against his back nothing but a soothing reminder that this was what he had been waiting for.

He needed a diversion. Because knowing better than to kill a man for all too see, José Fernandez thanked the lord above for gifting him with a open mind. It had happened with a mere push of a button—an explosion rocketing into the air, chaos ensued.

He had moved with calculated steps, a grace that a man such as himself should never possess but considering that he had a patient mentor, stealth and agility had come with a high price.

He acted on pure instinct and without hesitation, he pounced. It was as easy as slicing through butter with a hot knife—the man's screams dying down the moment an audible crack echoed through the commotion running rampant around him. "It was a pleasure doing business with you."

Moving fast without gaining unwanted attention to himself, José supposed he had taken things a little too far but glancing down at the briefcase clutched firmly in his grasp, he knew it was well worth the sacrifice.

Reaching into his pocket, José contemplated whether he should call Dianne and relay the information he had gotten—not entirely sure what contents were hiding in the briefcase, he knew he'd rather wait and see what it was before jumping the gun.

 _Charming_.

"I hope you know what you're getting yourself into, Dianne." Despite being the reason why the woman found herself in Charming, José couldn't help but question whether he had been in his right state of mind at sending the woman in uncharted territory.

He wanted to see her happy—that much he could admit without sounding like a complete douche but getting involved with the Sons?

Because he knew enough to know that it was just a disaster waiting to happen.

* * *

Author Note: José Fernandez has made his official debut—and for those who are confused as to what role he plays, all will be revealed soon. I have added more to this chapter and corrected all visible grammar mistakes as best I could.

Thanks for all the reviews, alerts and support in general. It means a lot to me.

Much love,

Nicole J. Coltan.


	8. — Chapter Eight: Bad Moon Rising —

**Fallen From Grace**

 _by **Nicole J. Coltan.**_

"It had taken one taste of temptation and she knew she'd follow him into the pits of hell..."

 **Disclaimer:** _I in no means own anything related to the Sons of Anarchy. I merely own Dianne O'Neil, Wren O'Neil, José Fernandez and everything else which you don't recognize._

 _I was listening to the song Bad Moon Rising from the band Creedence Clearwater Revival and just thought it fitting for this chapter._

* * *

 _Chapter Eight: Bad Moon Rising._

 ** _"You came back for me."_**

The gasp tearing from her lips was a mixture between realization and anguish; the bloodied sight of her little Wren still ever present in her mind. It seemed to happen more often than not, the nightmares that would plague her conscious the moment she closed her eyes.

 ** _"It's gonna be okay, momma. It doesn't hurt anymore."_**

A reminder that peace was something that would forever elude her—not until she put her daughter at rest, knowing that the bastards responsible for her little's girl's death would be no longer.

She had spent the entire night tossing and turning and now knowing that sleep wouldn't find her, Dianne supposed she could—. Her mind made up, the woman placed a reassuring kiss on Diego's nose before kicking off the covers around her feet and stood on shaking legs.

 _ **"I want you to be happy, momma."**_

Dianne O'Neil had decided that if Charming was to remain her home for the time being, opening up her own business was the best option that presented itself to her the morning she had found herself breezing through the newspaper in hopes of finding a job.

 _The Buccaneers._

And despite her initial debate to open a restaurant, Dianne had found herself liking the idea of a pub and grill better—thus the name was born. She thought it fitting and unique.

It was where she spent most of her days and on occasions such as these, nights as well. Dianne didn't necessarily like breaking routines but knowing that Diego didn't mind, the woman had decided it best to keep the pup at home whenever she'd leave the house at night.

He didn't seem to mind, considering that he favored his sleep above all else—another thing Dianne found herself jealous over.

Running a hand through her hair as she shimmied into a pair of high waisted denims and a Jack Daniels tank top, Dianne pulled her arms through the sleeves of her leather jacket before quietly moving down the hall.

Making a mental note to thank Ellie and Kenny for their hard work at wearing the normally energetic pup out, Dianne couldn't help the frown that pulled at her eyebrows as she through of the two rascals.

 ** _"There's the smile I know, momma. It's okay to move on. Just promise you won't forget me."_**

It sailed through the air, shattering in fragments that rocketed across the floor—her mass stumbling forward, her knuckles ashen white as the woman gripped the counter in hopes of clearing her mind.

How could she forget? Dianne O'Neil could feel herself struggling against the darkness clouding her senses and for a moment, she considered to give in—allow it to consume her and he done with it.

 ** _"Don't give up now, momma. You can make it through this. Remember that game we use to play?"_**

Dianne could feel her lower lip tremble as the emotions continued to assault her from every corner of her mind, a chocked laugh stumbling from her lips as she smiled, "I remember, baby. I remember."

 ** _"Baby steps, momma. It's all about the baby steps."_**

Sobering up at the immense warmth coiling in her stomach, Dianne just knew that the presence of her daughter was there—not physically but the woman could feel her, filling her with hope and giving her the strength she needed to get through another day.

"Thank you, baby." Dianne murmured into the silence as she glanced down at the mess she had made. Groaning in exaggeration at the broken mug, Dianne couldn't help but grumble curses under her breath as she slowly started to pick up the shards of porcelain. "

 _Just great, Dianne. Leave it to you to break the only mug large enough for his big ass hands_. It had been a comical sight to see the man drink from a small cup and though it proved to be amusing to her, Dianne couldn't help but marvel at his sheer size.

It had been the reason why she had bought him the mug in the first place, those large hands wrapped around a tea cup just wouldn't do. The man needed his dose of caffeine early in the morning and a cup that size just couldn't fill his needs. "Guess I'll just get another one. Wouldn't even know the difference."

It was then as she dumped the mess in the dustbin that her eyes caught sight of the drawing pinned against the refrigerator—the familiar warmth seizing ahold of her heart as she recalled that day.

 _ **She had been in the process of making a batch of chocolate chip cookies when the timid knock echoed through the house and knowing that whoever it was wasn't Opie, Dianne had found herself rather hesitant to open the door.**_

 _ **It had been a week since he had approached her with a favor and despite being reluctant, she had agreed in terms of their friendship; something that Dianne had found herself valuing more each day.**_

 _ **He had explained –rather vaguely, she might add– that he'd be out of town for the weekend and had asked if she'd mind taking care of his children for the few days. She had been shocked that he trusted her enough to look after the two most important people in his life and for a moment, she could remember staring at him in absolute shock.**_

 _ **But it was something that she had quickly overcome and without thought on what the consequences might be had agreed. Nervous would have been a gross understatement to describe what Dianne had been feeling.**_

 _ **She didn't know what to expect when she opened the door but stumbling back the moment arms wrapped around her waist, all Dianne could do was stare at shock at the mass of brown and blonde hair invading her sight.**_

 _ **And nothing could have prepared her for the pieces of paper shoved in her trembling hands. "We made these for you."**_

It took her an entire day to push back the tears that those two had caused her and though she assured them that it was of happiness, Dianne couldn't help but question what had made them act in such a way.

 _ **"You make him happy and that's enough reason for us. And besides, you make awesome cookies and I love Diego."**_

The warmth that had seized her heart at knowing that the two had accepted her rather quickly had been something she hadn't expected. Because staring at the pictures the two had drawn for her the past two weeks, Dianne couldn't have been more proud.

Flexing her fingers as the cool air bit at the exposed flesh, Dianne quickly meandered towards the warmth the Mustang could provide and heaved a breath before making sure that the Mark XIX Desert Eagle remained hidden from sight, (though easy to reach) Dianne started the car with a groan of contempt.

The familiar rumble of the engine was enough to make her forget the reason why she had left the comfort of her home and grumbled. "Better than to take out my frustration out on the walls than in my own home. Pretty sure that'll wake up the entire neighborhood."

Because as Dianne pulled out the driveway, casting a fleeting glance at the house opposite hers, the woman couldn't help but dread the day when it would come crashing down on her.

The inevitable was something she could not elude.

* * *

 _ **I see a bad moon a-rising**_  
 _ **I see trouble on the way**_  
 _ **I see earthquakes and lightnin'**_  
 _ **I see bad times today**_

 _ **Don't go 'round tonight**_  
 _ **It's bound to take your life**_  
 _ **There's a bad moon on the rise**_

 _ **I hear hurricanes a-blowing**_  
 _ **I know the end is coming soon**_  
 _ **I fear rivers over flowing**_  
 _ **I hear the voice of rage and ruin**_

 _ **Don't go 'round tonight**_  
 _ **It's bound to take your life**_  
 _ **There's a bad moon on the rise**_

 _ **I hope you got your things together**_  
 _ **I hope you are quit prepared to die**_  
 _ **Look's like we're in for nasty weather**_  
 _ **One eye is taken for an eye**_

 _ **Oh don't go 'round tonight**_  
 _ **It's bound to take your life**_  
 _ **There's a bad moon on the rise**_  
 _ **There's a bad moon on the rise**_

* * *

 **Budapest.**

Little things in life managed to strike fear into a man such as José Fernandez but listening to her voice had him gasping to remain in control. He could feel his heart quench in guilt and the familiar sensation of anger boil through his veins. "Jesus, Dianne."

He didn't bother to hide the mortification he held upon gazing at the images sprawled before him—pictures detailing of the abuse Wren O'Neil had suffered during her last moments. Was Dianne aware of this?

He had an inkling feeling that it wasn't the case because had she known, he doubted she would have given into the idea of leaving without slaughtering those responsible for this. What had that little girl done to deserve such a—?

He shook his head furiously, a hand rubbing across his tired face as he continued to debate with himself whether he should call her or not. In what state would this send her? He couldn't even comprehend what this would do to her and yet he knew he couldn't keep it from her.

 _"—on vizzhit, kak malen'kaya svin'ya."_ He swallowed the lump forming in his throat as it continued to dwindle on in the background; her desperate screams, the anguish and pain lingering behind them. This would surely rip Dianne asunder.

He had found enough in that briefcase to know that the man who was behind all this was out for blood—and he had gotten it but in doing so, the man had no inkling of an idea at what destruction he had unleashed.

There was a reason why no man on earth would fathom the thought of crossing Dianne O'Neil and yet this man had done so without thought on what his consequences might be. "She's going to eat you alive."

He had wandered into her domain and José Fernandez could only hope that Dianne O'Neil was strong enough to face her demons once more. The man found himself at loss of what to do but knowing that if he didn't act soon, all his accomplishments would be for naught.

Time continued to dwindle on without pause as he gazed aimlessly at the blank screen before him. He couldn't do it—not know. Not until he knew more.

"Please forgive me, Dianne."

* * *

 _ **AN**_ : Thank you for reading, reviewing, following and favoriting this story. Your support means the world to me and I cannot thank you all enough. I'll also be upping the rating to M soon so, just a little warning before things get a little heated. Don't worry, they won't jump each other's bones immediately but it will happen.

So Dianne has decided to open up a club during her stay in Charming. That should be something fun to write, The Buccaneers. I was busy watching Pirates of the Caribbean: The Black Pearl when the idea came to me. I hope that I didn't get Kenny and Ellie's characterization wrong as I don't have much to work on regarding those two. I mean you seem them so little in episodes that I decided that I'll just wing it.

 _Chapter Nine: Loose lips sink ships._

 _José's on a mission to crack the code—a list of numbers and names that make no sense, all the while keeping a constant look over his shoulder._

 _Dianne is immersed in the daunting task of getting the club up and running—all the while she and Opie tries to figure out what it is they want from each other._

 _Someone in the club discovers the reason behind their residential giant's change in mood. Anarchy is soon to follow..._

Love you all. Cannot wait to hear what you all thought of this chapter.

Much love,

Nicole J. Coltan.

 _PS: Let's see if we can break the record. Would it be too much to ask for three reviews before I update the next chapter?_


	9. — Chapter Nine: Loose Lips Sink Ships —

**_Fallen From Grace_**

by _Nicole J. Coltan._

"It had taken one taste of temptation and she knew she'd follow him into the pits of hell..."

 _Disclaimer_ : I in no means own anything related to the Sons of Anarchy. I merely own Dianne O'Neil, Wren O'Neil, José Fernandez and everything else which you don't recognize.

 _ **Chapter Nine: Loose Lips Sink Ships**_

* * *

 _Dianne had awoken that fateful morning with a feeling of absolute dread, nausea and trepidation—something that seemed to happen more often than not._

 _Knowing that her daughter would not be home in another four hours, Dianne had bided her time with making chocolate chip cookies, a dozen muffins and home made hot chocolate—all the while keeping a look out for her daughter._

 _It seemed natural for a mother to worry but if said mother had been an assassin in the past—knowing full well of the dangers lurking behind false pretenses—Dianne had every right to feel anxious the closer four o'clock approached._

 _It had been a battle Dianne knew she wouldn't win and though she had stretched it on as long as she could, the worries mother had realized that keeping her daughter from having fun was something she didn't have the heart to do._

 _And though Dianne had met Allison's parents prior —having done a background check, yes, a little excessive but necessary— the woman couldn't help but feel troubled. She supposed it had been instincts that had told her not to agree but considering that her daughter had yelled out in excitement the moment she knew that her mother had given up, Dianne simply disregarded her worry._

 _But that worry had returned when five o'clock dwindled by without any sight of her daughter and Dianne knew something was wrong. She could feel it coiling in her gut and alighting every fiber within her body to flame._

 _Her feet had carried her forward and with dread taking ahold of her senses, she could only watch as the doors of the SUV slide open and a body be carelessly dumped on the side before speeding away in a fit of screeching tires and smoke._

 _Dianne could feel her heart pounding against her chest as she took a step towards the unmoving form and for a moment time seemed to stop. Her knees wobbled and gravity took ahold._

 _The pain in her chest was unlike anything she had ever felt before and for a moment, she couldn't hear anything but her name being uttered._

 _And it was only at the pained whimpers coming from the small body now cradled in her arms that Dianne allowed herself to scream._

"—you sure you don't mind? I mean I can go and pick them up but," amused would have been a gross understatement at what Dianne was feeling at that moment but not wanting the man to think that she had a problem with it, Dianne couldn't help but shake her head in disbelief.

"I really don't mind," she assured the man with a smile, placing the roller in the bucket of crimson paint before balancing the phone between her cheek and shoulder, nodding her head in agreement as she gazed at the newly coated wall before her, "—I'm sure I'll think of something to keep them occupied with."

 _Like helping me paint, cause this shit is hard work. I should probably stop by the hardware store and get more supplies, take the kids with me. Hmm, good idea. I think they'll like_ —. "Baby girl? Did you hear a word I just said?"

Her heart skipped a beat at the loving nickname he had started calling her and smiled, desperately keeping herself from squealing in delight. "Yes, I heard you loud and clear," hearing a multitude of voices in the background, Dianne shook her head once more, "—I appreciate you looking out for them but this isn't the first time you made me pick them up and this won't be the last. I'd do anything for those kids and you know that."

 _No he didn't but thank you brain for informing him._ And without waiting for the man to form any reply, Dianne cleared her throat and ran a hand through her hair while taking a step back from her work. "I'll see you later."

"Dianne—." The line went dead and Dianne huffed a breath before slapping her palm against her forehead, mentally scolding herself for letting it slip through her mouth and sighed. Though she had meant what he said, Dianne knew that the man wouldn't be pleased that she had hung up on him. "You are so gonna get it."

Knowing she still had an hour to kill before having to go pick up the kids, Dianne bided her time with making sure that she had everything she needed before stepping over the various tubs of paint scattered all over the place and heading towards the door.

After rechecking that everything was locked, Dianne meandered towards the Mustang sitting in the abandoned parking lot—something that would no doubt change in the weeks to come and—and grinned in contempt.

This side of her was still mysterious and daunting; a challenge that Dianne had accepted. Wandering in uncharted waters was something that Dianne had found a sense of thrill in, discovering a piece of her that had been locked away.

It was easier to pretend not to care for anything other than yourselves. There had been a time where that had been her sole intention, pretending to care for no one but herself but as time continued to dwindle on without giving off any sign that it would be stopping, Dianne had found herself wondering whether this was life's way of showing her that this was her final chance at Redemption.

Silence had proven to be both her friend and tormentor; allowing her to face the unwarranted emotions brimming within her heart and the thoughts plaguing her mind. These wayward feelings that she held no control over was making the woman feel things she never thought possible—feelings and emotions her daughter had taught her to understand accept.

She had lost who she was and to be honest, Dianne O'Neil was still feeling lost but for some selfish reason, she wanted to believe that someone would find her stranded alongside the road—offer her the things she never knew she needed, wanted, until now.

She had spent days trying to remind herself that she couldn't allow herself to be swept underneath the current, berating herself for allowing things to go as far as it had done but despite her heart being torn in two; Dianne wasn't sure what she needed.

This was something she wanted but knowing that it could never be brought forth an ache in her that reminded her the day she finally realized that her daughter would no longer be her anchor.

It was her daughter's constant reminder that it was all right to feel, that she was still human and not a machine. That mistakes were meant to be made. Wren had been so wise and mature for her age that Dianne couldn't help but be proud of.

She missed her little girl so much and for a while, the gaping hole in her heart had been filled with a hunger for vengeance, (despite the darkness still ever present at the back of her mind) but now things were different.

Just being surrounded by Opie and his kids allowed her to realize that the gaping hole in her heart had grown smaller and with that, the hope she had thought to be devoured by despair had rekindled.

Pulling up in front of the school, Dianne couldn't help but reminiscence about the days she had done exactly the same for her daughter—dropping her off and picking her up. It was another thing that provided a sense of normalcy in her life, one that she refused to let go.

* * *

 _ **You showed me you weren't**_

 _ **Just another open door**_

 _ **You showed me I could**_

 _ **Give back, but you took it all**_

* * *

During the time that the man had become distant and emotional, having spent most of his time at the clubhouse and taking more hits than he should, Bobby Munson could honestly say that he was surprised at the sudden change in mood Opie Winston had undergone in the past few weeks—and despite the tension still ever present between the Sons, it didn't take a fool to notice that someone was responsible for the happiness bubbling around his head.

And if the Sons noticed the change in the man, which Bobby suspected even a blind man to see, they didn't comment on it—knowing full well that it wouldn't bode well with Opie.

But being a man who valued truth, it didn't take long to put one and two together. This was the work of a woman and one hell of a woman, he might add. It had been a brief glimpse he had gotten but it was all he needed to know—because knowing that Opie had a reason for keeping this from the club, Bobby knew better than to start unwanted trouble.

Most people tended to avoid the man alone, walking around him on eggshells in fear that one wrong word would send him on a rampage—because in truth, despite the happiness radiating from the man, it didn't take a fool to notice that he was a ticking time bomb.

He was still emotionally distant with everyone, including his ever curious father who constantly watched him with concern (not that Piney would admit it). So he knew that calling him out on in front of the club at what he had witnessed earlier through the afternoon would not be a very good idea.

Having struck idle conversation with the SAA, Bobby couldn't help but keep a look out for the subject of his thoughts. Trager made a grimace at noticing that the man wasn't paying as much attention as he should have, talking about woman in general and had his thoughts not been focused on another matter entirely, Bobby would have added his own lecherous comment.

"I mean her tits were—," he made a gesture at his own chest, making a motion of what he meant to get the picture through and grinned, "—this size. Flaunting that piece of—." The door swung open and Bobby knew his chance had arrived.

"Clay wants to see you," the big man shrugged at the questioning gaze from Trager before jabbing his thumb towards the door, "—something about missing papers and shit. Mumbling that Gemma," not having met Opie's eyes since he entered, the two men watched as he shot of like lighting, the blue eyed SAA flying from the chair and stalking out the clubhouse, the loud bang echoing through the silent room.

An incredulous eyebrow was raised as Opie turned his attention back towards Bobby, "What's his problem?"

The man merely shrugged before pointing a meaty finger towards the vacant chair before him, his eyes quickly traveling through the room and sent Opie a knowing look, "Sit your ass down, Ope," noticing the hesitancy the big man felt, Bobby grinned in bemusement, "–this isn't an interrogation, well, depends on how you look at it, son."

Reluctantly easing himself in the chair, Bobby was extremely thankful that Clay had most of the boys busy in either the garage working or out on business, because knowing that this was the only time he could admit having a one on one conversation with the man, the last thin Opie needed were people sniffing around his personal life. "You got something to say, old man?"

Bobby chuffed in annoyance, "You gonna keep that woman locked away forever, Ope?" For a moment all Opie did was stare at him in confusion, a blatant front to keep himself from losing his calm, and shrugged.

"I don't know what you're talking about," but Bobby could see the truth expressed on the man's face and guffawed.

"I might be old but I'm not blind, son. Pretty thing rides a Mustang, don't she?"

And the reaction he received was something neither of them expected. He had seen enough through his life to know that the look flashing across Opie's eyes was something feral—a sight that he had seen multiple times in his life but never in Opie's.

The stool squeaked in process before clattering towards the floor, the rage pooling from the man being a clear inclination that things were about to get heated, "Did he tell you?!" When Bobby failed to answer quickly, Opie took a step towards him, "— ** _Jax_**! He's the only one who knew about her. Did he tell you?!"

Silence lingered in the air as Opie's chest heaved with each breath he took and had he blinked at that moment, Bobby would have missed the look of desperation crossing the man's eyes.

And it was then that Bobby realized the reason why Opie fought to keep this a secret. "What—?"

Before the old man could comprehend a word in assurance, the furious man had crossed the room in three long strides, his fingers wrapping around the doorknob leading to the lot and knew that if he didn't act soon that something was bound to happen—and not in the best of ways, "I saw her with the kids," Bobby was quick to elaborate, "—picking them up from school. Got them ice-cream and drove off before I decided to come here. Thought it better not to cause a scene if she ended up being some gash—."

 _Cause you know how the saying goes; loose lips sink ships._ And for Bobby Munson, it had been his ultimate mistake at dubbing the woman as such.

Tension rolling off the man, Opie turned towards him with a murderous glare, "What did you just say?" He shook his head furiously before pointing a finger at the old man, "—she's not a gash, Bobby. She's more than that," a frown tugged his eyebrows together before a chocked laugh tumbled from his lips. "If I so much as see any one of you near her," for a moment, Bobby could only blink at the hidden threat lingering in his voice, "—there will be hell to pay."

Bobby Munson was left in silence, watching on in silent contempt at the door swinging back and forth. "Jesus _Christ_ , Ope!" **_Jax_**.

The door swung open again and the concerned, yet questioning gaze of Clay Morrow appeared before him. "Wanna tell me why Opie just tore outta the lot looking ready to kill someone?"

Bobby Munson merely shook his head, "I mentioned Donna. He couldn't handle it so he took off. Don't be expecting him back soon."

It was the only reasonable excuse he could come up with at that moment because Bobby knew all he needed to know. Because whoever this woman was, she obviously meant a lot to Opie and that alone was enough reason for Bobby to keep quiet.

If she made him happy then who was he to stand in the way. Kid had been through enough with the club business and Donna's death looming over his shoulder.

"He'll come around."

* * *

 **Budapest.**

"You have got to be fucking joking with me..." Disbelief would have been a gross understatement to describe what José Fernandez was feeling at that precise moment as he stared at the letters mocking him in black and white.

This was where it all started. Had Dianne O'Neil known of the consequences she'd be facing for accepting the daunting challenge laid before her in price of her freedom, José doubted she would have accepted it without thinking of the consequences she'd face.

José had learnt a valuable lesson from his time as an assassin—once you accepted a hit, there was no going back. This was all about revenge and vengeance—and when both of those components collided with one another, well there was nothing that could be done.

He couldn't keep this from Dianne; knowing that if this information were to get in the wrong hands, well the consequences that would follow wasn't something the man wanted to think about let alone imagine.

He had come too far to let this slip through his grasp. He had seen far enough in his life to know that nothing good would come from this. Dianne O'Neil wasn't a woman who took kindly to betrayal; that much he had learnt through personal experience when she had stumbled through his eyes covered in blood.

"I kill them all." But remembering the last phone call he had gotten from Dianne, the man found him hesitant to shatter the happiness she had found in the past month and a half. Though he had expressed that she was moving a little too fast, she had assured him that she hadn't forgotten.

That when it came down to business, she'd leave it all behind in a heartbeat but knowing the woman better than he had led her to believe, José knew that she was only fooling herself.

Dianne O'Neil had changed.

He could hear it in her manner of speech. And once more, he found himself hesitant to break her moment of solitude; a freedom she hadn't had in a long time since the passing of Wren.

But it was important to be a step ahead of the enemy. It would take time but José knew how to play the game of chess.

One was always a step ahead of the other and for _Ethan Zobelle_ —well that man had another thing coming.

Because sooner rather than later, he and everyone else who had a hand in the murder of Wren O'Neil would discover the reason why the assassination world feared the Baba Yaga.

Death was coming for them. Just like it was coming for him and there wasn't a _damn_ thing anyone could do to stop that from happening.

 _"Once you let the darkness in, it will never come out."_ The Devil had finally come out to play.

* * *

AN: Kudos to lagoon childe for making the connections. Ethan Zobelle will be playing a much larger role than he did during season two so I'm hoping that was a twist most of you didn't see coming. I have so much planned for this so I can't wait to hear what you guys think.

And thank you for giving me four _reviews_! I appreciate each and every one of them. I'm glad that I'm doing something right. Please tell me what you thought of Bobby's view of things, as I intended it for Gemma to be the one finding out. But Dianne will be introduced soon, I promise.

As for Opie's reaction, I hope that I didn't make him seem OOC.

 _ **Thanks**_ for all the reads, reviews, favorites and follows—your support means the world to me.

Remember, review is love.

Much love,

Nicole J. Coltan.


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